be thy destinies onward and bright
by greatestheights
Summary: Seven snapshots of a universe where Donna Moss goes to Harvard instead of UW-Madison, and a recently fired Josh Lyman (who never did know when to quit running his mouth) returns to his alma mater to give teaching a try.


**_Notes:_**

Part four in my "Collection of Prompts" series. This is a little different than the fic I usually write, because it wasn't supposed to be a fic, exactly. The meme (courtesy of tumblr, of course) was: "Send me an alternate universe and I'll give you 5+ headcanons about it." As usual, it blossomed into something a little more than I expected. I'm tempted to take this universe and run with it, but for now, it only exists here. Prompt: "Josh x Donna, college AU." Title from the fight song, "Fair Harvard."

* * *

 **i.**

Donna has nearly perfect SAT scores and graduates high school ranked fifth in her class. She gets into Harvard, Notre Dame, UW-Madison, and Penn State. Her boyfriend wants her to pick Madison so they can live together in the spring. Her parents want her to pick Penn State because it's the only school offering a full ride. Donna's tired of people making choices for her, so she applies for as many scholarships as she can, spends the summer working three jobs, and goes to Harvard in September. Her major is undeclared.

 **ii.**

Josh Lyman ends up teaching political science at his undergrad alma mater after running his mouth off one too many times at the Minority Whip. His boss is nice when he fires Josh, suggests that maybe he might want to take a breather from D.C. Get back to his roots. Shout at some people who would have no choice but to listen. Josh has already been working the Hill for nearly a decade: he has a reputation, a couple high-profile friends, more than enough options. He could easily stay, lick his wounds, do an embarrassing amount of grovelling, zip his mouth shut, and put in a little grunt work for the Attorney General or something...but it doesn't have the same appeal it once might have. Josh likes talking too much. When one of his old frat buddies—who's already ended up as Assistant Dean at the College of Arts & Sciences—calls, offering Josh a visiting lecturer position, Josh barely hesitates. He breaks his lease. Finds a townhouse in Cambridge. Decides to take a breather, just for now. Just until he figures out what's next.

 **iii.**

Donna decides, at the end of her sophomore year, that she's tired of bouncing from major to major. She has to pick something, but she doesn't know what. She's done everything from Linguistics to Pre-Med to East Asian Studies to Integrative Biology. She can tell you more than you'd ever want to know about primate behavior and 19th century American literature. She even speaks a passable amount of Mandarin. But here she is, twenty years old, nearly halfway done with her college career, and none of it feels right. Donna's best friend and roommate, Amelia, is a Government major who won't shut up about her Electoral Politics class and the hilarious professor who goes off on long tangents and always gives them their papers back three weeks late because he writes pages of critiques, scribbles all over their work, explains what they've fucked up point by rambling point. One day, Donna skips her Social Psych class and sits in on Amelia's lecture. The professor, who everyone just calls Josh, is funny, sarcastic, and weirdly attractive (in a nerdy sort of way). He starts talking pretty much the second he crashes into the classroom, juggling an overstuffed backpack and a Redbull. He's complaining about an education bill in Washington that Donna's been following, and in about ten minutes, he's not only changed her mind about the damn thing—he's made the entire process sound fascinating. When he gets into his actual lecture (election models and voting patterns in the Midwest) Donna finds herself taking notes. By the end of the hour, when Josh winces and tells the groaning class that their midterm grades are gonna be late again, Donna's pretty much made up her mind.

 **iv.**

Josh has never seen the tall blond standing in his office before, and he's sure he'd remember her. Not that he spends a lot of time ogling students: he's not gross. It's just that this girl is particularly striking—there's a certain willowy grace to her that he wouldn't have been able to ignore. Josh is so busy staring at her that it takes him a second to notice she's behind his desk, shuffling his papers around. When he demands to know who she is, she blinks innocently up at him and tells him that she's his new TA. Josh splutters: "What? I never asked for a TA." And then, with a deep breath and a determined set to her shoulders, the girl explains that her name is Donna Moss and she's a Government major and she really wants some more experience. She says his lectures are her favorite, that she's never felt so passionately about a subject in her life. Josh squints and asks which of his classes she's in, and she gets flustered, admits she's been tagging along with her roommate to Josh's Electoral Politics lecture for the past month. Despite himself, Josh is flattered. When Donna Moss insists that she might be valuable, that she would be so enormously grateful if he gave her this chance, Josh pauses. He's got about a thousand papers to grade and a lesson to prepare and ten urgent calls to Washington to make. "If you can follow my rubric," he says, "and if you can get through five of these midterms in the next hour, I'll consider it." Donna gets through fifteen. She only makes two mistakes. Josh gives her the job, and when he looks at her transcripts later and finds out she's only been a Government major for two and a half weeks, he can't bring himself to care.

 **v.**

Two years blink right past. Donna eats, breathes, and sleeps political science, burying herself in the world of electoral strategy and legislature. She talks her way into every advanced government class, spends nearly all of her free time in Josh Lyman's messy office, and at the tail end of her senior year, she gets into law school. Georgetown. Josh had called in a favor or two, but he's quick to wave off her thanks. He tells her that she's the only reason his students ever get their papers graded on time. He says that he's not 100% sure what he was doing with his life before she started organizing it for him. And then, he tells her that she's going to be a phenomenal lawyer, and (if she wants) maybe even a politician one day. "The kind of politician guys like me dream about," Josh tells her. "Yeah, you've got the head for it, but I think you've got something else, too. You care, maybe a little too much. We need people like you writing the laws. Look me up one day. You know, when you wanna run for something." Donna gets all choked up and sentimental, which makes Josh blatantly uncomfortable. He doesn't like it when she hugs him, or brushes too close. Or at least, he doesn't seem to—he always jumps away, is very careful to keep the door to his office wide open when they're alone together. He teases her about everything—her plethora of majors, the stupid grad students she's always dating, all of her little organizational quirks—but he never gets too personal, and he never seems to want to be anything to her other than her teacher. Donna knows he's a little old for her. She knows about ethical boundaries. She knows Josh Lyman is many obnoxious things, but he does not leer after undergrads. In fact, he doesn't really seem to leer after anyone. Donna had maybe started to fall in love with him halfway through that first lecture, but she doesn't think about that if she can help it. She prefers to focus on things she can have: degrees, and a career, and a future that's bigger than she ever would have dared pick for herself, all those years ago in Madison. So: she says goodbye to Josh Lyman and to Harvard and the past two years of her life. She refuses to look back. After a month in Washington, when Josh still hasn't called, Donna absolutely does not cry.

 **vi.**

Josh watches his impossibly brilliant, impossibly pretty, impossibly valuable TA graduate summa cum laude on a sunny Friday in May. He buys her a drink, tells her he's proud. He maybe says he doesn't know what he'll do without her. He promises he'll call and check in on her, once she's settled in at Georgetown. Donna Moss smiles sunnily at him and says she's going to miss him and his two AM lectures. Josh wants to kiss her, and he hates himself for it more than words can say. So: she leaves. He doesn't call. He spends the next four years trying to forget the way he felt around her (and he definitely does not hire another TA). He teaches, he consults in D.C. every spare chance he gets. He follows the slow start of the Presidential campaign and turns down one offer from John Hoynes, even though it pains him. Josh is a teacher, now, after all—not a major political player. But one night, an old friend of his father pays a visit, casually asks if Josh might take a quick trip with him to Nashua. Josh has never been able to say no to Leo McGarry. He goes, reluctantly. Jed Bartlet speaks. Josh can't remember why the fuck he's ever wanted to do anything else. Leo offers him a job on the campaign, and Josh doesn't even hesitate. He gives Harvard his notice the next morning.

 **vii.**

Donna breezes through law school. She doesn't think about all those late nights grading papers with Josh, or about the sound of his voice when he went off on one of his idealistic rants, or the way he always ran his hands through his hair when he was tired. There's so much to _do._ Internships, and even more late nights, and endless studying. She's a little young for the program, so she has to work three times as hard to prove herself. It's brutal, but in many ways, it's also like breathing. Donna's not sure how she ever could have wanted to do anything else. So, she works, and apart from his lessons, Donna doesn't think about Josh Lyman at all (really, she doesn't) until four years later. She's just passed the bar. She has a J.D./M.A.A.S. with a concentration in politics. She has three job offers. And then: Josh shows up on her doorstep one rainy night, all dimples and breathless hellos. Donna's so surprised to see him that she actually feels her jaw drop, feels the air rush right out of her lungs. He looks happier than he did at Harvard. Younger, somehow. Lighter.

"Donnatella Moss," Josh says, "come to Manchester with me."

Donna lets him in. Josh tells her about a man named Jed Bartlet, tries to give her the hard sell—lots of talk about _the real thing_ and _an actual darkhorse campaign_ and _what the country has been waiting for_ and _the opportunity of a lifetime_ —but Donna doesn't need it. She's already made up her mind.


End file.
